The Tale of a Maiden of Dale
by gin893
Summary: Helena is a young woman living in the village of Dale whose life is forever changed when Smaug the dragon inhabits the Lonely Mountain and begins preying on the villagers.
1. Chapter 1

"Later, he [Smaug] used to crawl out of the great gate and come by night to Dale, and carry away people, especially maidens, to eat, until Dale was ruined, and all people dead or gone." J.R.R. Tolkien, _The Hobbit_

Helena, daughter of Pelleas, grew up in the village of Dale, between the Lonely Mountain and the Long Lake. Her father was a hunter and she, the eldest in a family of girls, had learned to hunt along with him. She loved the feel of a bow in her hand, the crunch of pine needles beneath her feet, the patience and calculation it took to bring down a kill. After spending hours in the forest, little could scare her or rattle her nerves. But everything changed when the dragon came.

His name was Smaug and he was an enormous red worm with a wingspan that could enshroud an entire village. A greedy beast with a lust for gold and treasure, he had pillaged the halls of the dwarves who lived in the Lonely Mountain, destroying each and every one of them and keeping their jewels and riches for himself.

A dragon must eat, especially one the size of Smaug, and his food preference happened to be the residents of Dale. He had a strong partiality for young women and would swoop down out of nowhere and spirit them away. There was little to do about these attacks except keep an eye on the skies at all times. Several of the more courageous – and slightly foolish – warriors of Dale had climbed the Lonely Mountain, intending to do away with the worm once and for all, only to be instantly found by Smaug and devoured on the spot.

Dale was ridden with fear and despair over those who had been lost, but life stumbled on as best it could. On a cool morning, Helena was hunting with her fiancé, Damhán, and her sister Sìneag, near the lake, basking in the fresh breeze coming off the water and in the peace and calm of the surrounding forest. Helena and Damhán's wedding had meant to take place two weeks prior but the dragon attacks had thrown off their plans. It was just as well with Helena; Damhán was a changed man since the early days of their courtship and had seemed to have forgotten what he and Helena had shared. People often said that times of great trouble showed people for who they really were and Helena was not certain she liked who Damhàn appeared to be underneath.

"You sound like a herd of Mûmakil," he snapped at her as they prowled around the lake. If anything, Damhàn was the one who sounded like the enormous creatures known to hobbits as Oliphaunts. His large boots seemed to find every branch and twig to snap and he was stomping about rather than using the delicate steps Helena's father had learned from watching elves hunt. Helena had tried again and again to teach this same technique to Damhán, but he had completely ignored her advice. At this rate, there wouldn't be any prey left along the Celduin river.

"You'd think based on your size you'd be far quieter," he continued to jab. Damhán often criticized Helena's height. For being part of the race of Men, Helena wasn't even five feet tall. Her father had often teased her that she was half-hobbit and had nicknamed her Halfling as a child. With her curly tawny hair and slightly elfish features, she certainly carried a bit of their race about her.

However, Damhàn had never mentioned her height in anyway except to insult her. He was tall, broad, and athletic, the sort that many girls of Dale had swooned over. Helena had once been amongst them and had nearly died of happiness when Damhàn had chosen her to court. But now she envied the girls who had other suitors that didn't harshly critique them every moment of every day and was rude to both them and their family.

"Stop lagging behind," Damhàn had turned on Sìneag now, grown bored with Helena's dismissal of his insults. "We'll be out here until dark if you keep falling back."

Sìneag was the second youngest in Helena's family and was rather small for her age of ten, as Helena had once been. She continued to stumble over tree roots and vines, struggling to carry a bow too large for her size that was slung over her shoulder. She was far more sensitive to Damhàn's newfound harshness and tears began to form in her large blue eyes.

This was too much for Helena. Damhàn could say whatever he wanted about her, she was fair game for all it mattered. But he had no right to go after her own family.

"Stop it, Damhàn, or I'll throw you in the river," Helena spat.

"Oh, I'd like to see you try," Damhàn sneered. "Look at you. You could hardly climb on a pony. You know, I'm only marrying you to do a favor for your father. Because no man would really want to marry a woman who'll give birth to midgets."

Something inside Helena snapped and before she realized what she had done, she'd pinned Damhàn to the ground. "Not so little now, am I?" she seethed. "Listen to me once and for all, Damhàn, son of Faolán. Say what you will about me. But attack my sister, my lineage, and my family to come, and you will regret it. I may be little, but I am fierce."

Damhàn stared at her. "Fierce enough to endure your entire family being destroyed by a soulless worm? That's what's going to happen, you know. We're all going to die."

Helena had had enough of his defeatism. She smacked him across the face. "With an attitude like that then yes, we are. You think this is easy for any of us? What gives you the right…"

"What was that?" Sìneag cried. Her keen ears had picked up on something that Helena and Damhàn had not heard amongst their arguing. Helena looked up, listening carefully. Slowly, carefully, she released Damhàn and stood up. Damhàn leapt off the ground, sweeping leaves and dirt from his clothes and making a tremendous racket whilst doing it.

"Hush!" Helena instructed. "What did you hear, Sìneag?"

"It sounded like wings," Sìneag said, her voice wavering.

The three of them stood still. In an instant, a large, dark form swept overhead, hovering above them. Sìneag screamed and Helena threw herself towards her sister, grabbing her in her arms.

"No!" Damhán was yelling. "No, not me! Do what you want with the girls but leave me alone!" He bolted into the forest.

"Damhán!" Helena screamed, outraged. "Damn it!" She looked up, facing a pair of mesmerizing red eyes. She gulped, trying to remain calm.

"Take me," she said. "Let my sister go but take me. I'm bigger, after all."

"So you are," the dragon said in a deep voice that made the branches of the near-by trees quiver. "Though not by much."

"Run, Sìneag," Helena prompted.

"But…"

"Do it, please, and don't look back; it's alright." She swiftly kissed the top of her sister's head and pushed her towards the trees. "Go."

Sìneag bolted off and Smaug moved towards her, attempting to follow. But Helena threw herself in his line of sight.

"One is better than none, Dragon," she said, "and I'm giving myself to you. So take me."

"Very well then," Smaug said. "You needn't tell me twice." He swept down and slipped his claws into her twill bodice, sweeping her off the ground. Within moments they were airborne, the lake and river a faintly bluish-green line beneath them and the forest a thicket of green.

Despite the fact that Helena knew she was going to die in a matter of minutes, this was the most breathtakingly beautiful moment in her life, to see the sky in all its glory, with Middle Earth sprawled out below her in only a view the birds and the Great Eagles had.

They approached the Lonely Mountain, heading towards Smaug's lair in its side. He swept in through its cavernous entrance and, upon reaching its main chamber, dropped Helena down and landed in front of her. He folded his wings and stared at her steadily for a moment, then began circling her, eyeing her all the while and exhaling smoke from his nostrils. It was unnerving to say the least.

"What the hell are you doing? Just eat me already!" Helena cried, waving her arms about. "Eat me!"

"Well, not when you're leaping about like that," Smaug said distastefully. "It rather puts me off my appetite."

"Then hurry up and get it back."

"You seem rather eager to die, maiden."

"I'd just like to get this process over and done with, thanks."

Smaug snorted, a plum of smoke escaping from his reptilian nose. "You're not even going to beg or grovel? How dull!"

"What's the use? You're just going to eat me anyway."

If dragons could smile, it appeared Smaug was doing so. His sharp fangs gleamed between his thin lips and he gave a weird sort of rumbling sound Helena realized must have been laughter. "What is your name, maiden?"

Despite the fact Helena knew she was going to die, it was terribly stupid to tell a dragon one's real name under any circumstances. "Halfling," she replied. "They call me Halfling because I appear more hobbit than girl."

"You are quite small," Smaug sniffed. "Pity that other little one ran away – I could have carried the two of you in one claw." He flexed his talons before her face and Helena forced herself not to flinch.

The dragon's eyes narrowed at her lack of consternation. "You are absolutely no fun. Where is the screaming? The tears? The hysteria?"

"I am a woman of Dale. I have seen my fair share of hardship. I have battled with bears and brought down great beasts. I have had my share of screaming and tears and hysteria but not now. Not today."

Smaug sighed, sitting down on his clawed feet so that he was at eye-level with her. "Now that is more like it, nothing is more orexigenic than courage. But it seems rather a shame to consume you when things are starting to get interesting."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Smaug blinked at her lazily, his heavy lids dropping down over his fiery eyes. "I enjoy playing with my food. So continue, Halfling. Why do you show such courage when men from your own town flee my shadow?"

He was speaking of Damhán. "The man you saw is a fool. He was once courteous and kind, but your presence in our village has changed him. He is callous and cynical and cares nothing about those he once loved."

"Ah," Smaug realized. "You are his bride. I suppose I will have his wrath to face for destroying his wedlock."

"Unlikely," Helena considered. "He cares little for me now. You might be doing some good by eating me. Now he is free to chose another."

"Then he shall have to chose quickly before I devour your entire village."

The violent sincerity of his words struck her. "You are serious," she said. "Why would you do this? Do you find some happiness, some joy in ruining our home?"

Smaug rose up, eyes flashing. "Are you accusing me of wickedness, Halfling?"

"I… perhaps," she said softly.

Smaug chuckled again. "You would not be the first and you shall not be the last. But it is not I who am wicked but the world that surrounds me. Look how your people treat my kind, as a vile vermin to be persecuted. See how they desire us to be murdered, to be slain so that Men can believe they are more powerful than they truly are. Many of my kind are gone, murdered by the hands of your people. I am but a wolf among sheep, hunting as I must, turned into a monster by your lore and legends."

His voice was hypnotic, alluring, far too convincing. For a brief moment, Helena felt the faintest bit of sympathy for him. He was a hunter as she was, fighting to survive. But he was a creature of the extreme, giving into his cruelty as Damhán had, rather than fighting against it. "Be that as it may, Lord Smaug, you have no reason for razing Dale as you have. We have not fought you as many others did. You have eaten our warriors before they caused you even the slightest harm. You have passed a boundary into maliciousness that we are not responsible for."

"You have a bold mouth, little one," Smaug said, his eyes darkening. "I would watch it if I were you."

"Why should I mince my words?" Helena cried. "You will eat me no matter what I say. It is more worthwhile to be honest with you in my last moments than to lie and beg and plead and make promises I do not intend to keep. I could tell you that if you let me go, I would see to it that you would be fed and respected rather than hunted and feared. I could promise to bring you fifty other maidens if you spared my life. I could swear that the people of Dale would leave our homeland and move elsewhere on the Celduin if only you'd let me live. But they would all be false, hollow, pointless. No matter what I say, you would eat me anyway. You are far too clever to believe my lies. There is simply no point in arguing with dragons."

There was a strange sort of gleam in the dragon's eyes that had not been there before – a sense of respect. "I wish there were more like you among your people, maiden of Dale," Smaug declared. "Perhaps the two of us would never have found ourselves at the point if that were the case."

"Perhaps it doesn't matter. You are the hunter. I am the hunted. This is the way it is, and nothing can change that now," Helena said.

"You are right," Smaug said. "There is nothing to be done. For I am still going to eat you."

"I know," Helena murmured. "May I have one last request?"

Smaug cocked his head on the side. "It depends. What is it?"

"When you eat my family – which I know you shall – be easy on them. Please. Especially upon my sisters. Make it painless and quick."

Helena thought that perhaps for a second, a flicker of sympathy flashed through the worm's eyes. "You do not ask me to spare them," he mused, inquisitive.

"I know you will not. You are a hunter, as I am. You do not let a kill escape, not when you need it. When I am dead and gone, you would break your promise anyway. So I only ask that you kill them quickly. As I would you, if I could."

"If you could? You haven't even tried."

"I have only a small dagger," Helena said, gesturing to the weapon sheathed in her belt around her waist. "My bow is back in the forest, and I know my limits. Taking down a bear is one thing. A dragon is another case entirely. No, Lord Smaug, I see you and I know you are more powerful than me. I cannot kill you. You would smite me before I could even try. I will meddle not in the affairs of dragons."

Smaug shook his scaled head. "You are an enigma, Halfling of Dale. I hope others of your kind are as interesting."

"I don't think it likely that you will be disappointed," Helena smiled. "The people of Dale are full of surprises."

The dragon bowed his head to her. "I am hungry, little one."

Helena cautiously stretched out her hand, touching the smooth scales of his nose. It seemed odd to her that a dragon respected her more than her would-be husband had. "So you must be, Smaug the Magnificent. I am yours for the taking. I would rather die at your hands than in whatever miseries now await me in the village. It is an honorable death and I do not fear it."

"Then embrace it you shall," Smaug hissed and in one fell swoop, he swallowed her up.


	2. Chapter 2

Sìneag ran and ran until it felt as if her legs would give out and her lungs would burst. She stumbled back into the village of Dale, panting and breathless and tears pouring down her cheeks. No one had to ask her what had happened; there could only be one reason why someone would appear so distraught in the village these days: the dragon had come.

She stumbled into her parents' home. "Helena's been taken," she said.

A number of possible reactions had run through her head: her parents' fury, dismay, confusion, despair, anguish, an intermixing of any of these. But what she did not expect was what happened – complete and utter apathy. They glanced up momentarily and returned to what they were doing, her mother darning a sock, her father cleaning his boots.

"Did you hear me?" Sìneag cried, her voice cracking. "The worm took her. She's gone."

"We heard you," her mother muttered and Sìneag realized what had happened. Her parents had changed, just as Damhàn had. They had lost so much of their lives already that they could not even bear to accept or care that their own daughter was gone.

Sìneag stepped backwards; slowly at first, then rapidly, until she had thrown herself back outside into the cobbled streets. She was struck by a sudden nausea and collapsed to the ground, becoming violently ill. It passed but she didn't dare to move. The world seemed to be spinning and falling apart around her and all she longed for was her eldest sister's arms around her, telling her everything would be alright. But she was gone.

Tossing her blonde hair to the side, Sìneag laid her head on the stones, enjoying the pressure of their coldness against her throbbing temples. What was she going to do without Helena? She didn't want to stay in this town, waiting to die. She couldn't fight back. The only option was to leave, to leave the place where she'd been born and the only home she'd known for her short but turbulent ten years of life.

Over dinner, after her tears had abated for the time being and her sickness had faded, she brought up the issue to her parents.

"We have to leave Dale," she said bluntly, trying to make her thin voice sound stronger than it usually was. "We can't stay here; there's no point. No one is going to slay the dragon and if we don't leave, we'll just be eaten. We might as well go."

No one said anything. Tammara, the youngest that was only seven began to silently cry.

"You must listen to me," Sìneag urged. "This is all senseless. We –"

Before she could say another word, Damhàn burst in. "I am so sorry for your lost," he said grandly. "I tried to save her, I tried, but –"

A fury overtook Sìneag and a rage and power she had never felt before threw itself into her tiny frame. "You did no such thing!" she bellowed. "You fled like the lowly coward you are. You let my sister die, you bastard!"

"Sìneag!" her mother snapped in dismay. "Watch your tongue! You forget yourself."

"No, mother," Sìneag choked, "you've forgotten yourself. You all have." She leapt up from the table and fled to her room, throwing herself onto the straw mattress she shared with Tammara and the next eldest, Moriah. In a matter of hours, her entire life had fallen apart and she was left with the broken pieces and no knowledge of how to piece it back together.

She had to leave; this was resolved in her mind. But she did not want to leave her family. They were those she loved and cared about anymore in the world and they were the only thing she had left now. How could she just abandon them?

The door opened to her room sometime later and she felt a pair of eyes watching her. Glancing up, she saw Tammara's brown, doe-like gaze studying her.

"When you leave, I'm coming with you," she said softly.

"How do you know I'm leaving?"

"Because it's the only thing to do. I don't know what's happened to mother and father, but we have to go. Without Helena to hunt, we'd die anyway. But please, when you go, take me with you."

"Of course. Absolutely. The others…"

"The others won't come. They'll stay with mother and father. But I want to be with you."

Sìneag sat up and scooped her into her arms. "Of course. Of course I'll take you. I'd loathe leaving you behind. I just don't know when…"

"Tonight," Tammara said simply. Sìneag gave her a confused look. "Damhàn told us he's planning an attack against the dragon. Not so much because he lost Helena, but because he feels he must do something to make a great show. I think he wants to die now and he simply wants to go out with a bang."

It was terrifying to hear her younger sister talk like this, but Sìneag knew it to be true. "And you want to leave before he starts a war with the dragon."

Tammara nodded.

Sìneag swallowed deeply. "Alright. We'll leave tonight, just after dark. Slowly get your things together and we'll slip out while the others are in the main room before bed. Where we'll go… I don't know. But anywhere is better than here."

**So I thought I'd write another chapter to this, following Helena's sister in the aftermath of her death. More to come, it seems. Sineag has her own tale to tell :)**


	3. Chapter 3

They left shortly after nightfall, before the moon could rise and give them away. Sìneag had packed what food she could without drawing her parents' suspicion along with clothes and a few camping materials. Tammara had brought her toy horse their mother had made for her, looking at it tearfully as they left.

It was the most painful departure Sìneag would ever have in her life. Looking back at the little cottage, the only place she had ever called home, leaving behind the only kin she had ever needed was more painful than any physical injury she had ever suffered. Tears ran down both her face and her sister's as they began to take slow, laborious steps away, trying to stay quiet and to keep from utterly breaking down until they were some distance away.

From the village's center they saw a flickering light and Sìneag paused for a moment to investigate, worried that perhaps the dragon had struck once again. Instead, she saw a crowd of men carrying torches, standing in a circle around another man who was poised on the pedestal of a statue that showcased the city's founder. Squinting in the dim light, Sìneag barely made out Damhàn calling out to the crowd around them.

"Are we going to let that worm devour our women, terrify our children, wreck our farmland, and dominate our lives?" Damhàn yelled.

"NEVER!" the crowd bellowed back. The very fury in their voices made the windows shake and Sìneag shuddered.

"Quickly, Tammara," she said softly. "We have to leave. Now."

"What's Damhàn doing?" Tammara asked.

"Something stupid, I assume," Sìneag sighed. "It can only end in tears."

The two girls continued to tiptoe their way through the quiet village and Sìneag raced to think about where they should spend the night. They could sleep by the lake, make a fire to keep animals away, and continue on the next morning. But where would they go? Follow the river south and hope to find a village that would take them in? Or follow the river in the other direction and wandering into Mirkwood? Sìneag had no idea what lay to the south, but Mirkwood was marked in her mind as a dangerous place, a forest one did not tread without a map or a guide. While Sìneag had a map and a decent knowledge of the lay of the land, she wasn't certain she trusted herself to get Tammara and her through the woods alone. She shoved these thoughts from her mind and forced herself to concentrate on just getting out of the village. She would worry about the rest in the morning.

Tammara and Sìneag had barely reached the forest when a terrible screech tore through the night air. Silhouetted in the starlight, Smaug flew overhead, unleashing his furious cry to the air. He skimmed down just above the rooftops and spouted a fiery breath that ignited the thatched straw like dry autumn leaves. Light as bright as the sun lit the sky as the houses went up in flames and the only home that Sìneag had ever known was ravaged before her very eyes. Sìneag tried to force away thoughts of her family trapped inside their home, of fire licking its way to their bed chambers, of it slowly incinerating the walls and floors and…

Sìneag collapsed to the ground and was violently ill. Tammara hardly noticed, both spellbound and appalled at the fire eating its way through their village. As their home was slowly destroyed, Sìneag wondered what could possibly lie ahead for her and her sister, what future they possibly had.

"Are you alright?" a voice said softly. It was a woman's voice, exceedingly gentle and slightly familiar. "I saw you when the village went up in flames. Are you alone?"

"I… I'm alright," Sìneag spluttered, attempting to clear her eyes of tears. "And yes, we're alone." Her vision cleared and she began to recognize the face of Mairead, the lord of Dale's wife. She was a tall woman, with golden-brown hair and yellow-brown eyes. With her was a small boy, around Tammara's age, named Grier, a masculine replica of his mother. For a moment Sìneag wondered what had become of his father and realized immediately where he must be.

"Is… is it just you then, Lady Mairead?" Sìneag asked, though she already knew the answer.

"Yes," Mairead said, her voice breaking. "Yes it is." A tear streaked down her cheek but she let it fall, unashamed. "My son and I were heading for Mirkwood, in the hopes of finding another village or perhaps even the elves to take us in. What are your plans?"

"Perhaps Mirkwood as well," Sìneag admitted. "Except that I would never attempt it alone."

"Come with us. Please," Mairead pleaed. "With four of us, we stand a better chance. Better than… here…" Her sorrow flooded her face and the four of them settled at the edge of the woods until sadness had cooled itself like the rubble of their village.


	4. Chapter 4

Sìneag awoke to the harsh realization that the world she had known was gone. She now lived in a world where love was a farce, dragons could kill ruthlessly at will, where families were broken apart and homes destroyed, and right and wrong were thrown up in the air. Her sister was gone and there was no one but her to decide what was best for them. And now that them entailed Mairead and Grier as well as Tammara, Sìneag felt an added pressure to not make the wrong choice. Lives were at stake. Dale might be gone for good, but there was still the four of them. All was not utterly lost.

She sat upright, rubbing fatigue out of her eyes and knocking pine needles out of her hair. Her entire body ached from lying on the cold ground, but this pain was more than physical. Having one's entire village torn away in one fell swoop did not occur without some great psychological toll. The tears came suddenly and Sìneag let them fall until her eyes went dry and her throat ached.

The others awoke not long after and Mairead unpacked provisions from her bag.

"I wasn't able to bring much," she said regretfully. "Most of it was already burning when I got to it and I had tried to save my husband…" Her words were cut off as her eyes filled with tears.

Sìneag nodded, saying nothing. There wasn't anything she could say.

They ate dried beef and dried apricots, Tammara staring quietly at the boy, Grier. The two sisters had seen him around town but had never spoken to him. Being the lord's son, he was treated differently than children of their class. There was no need for him to go out hunting or learn a trade or work the land as the children in Sìneag's family had. Had Dale continued on, Grier would have been the next lord, no question of it. And now here he was, without a father, without a village, without a future. The dragon had taken far more than that beast would ever realize.

"Tammara, don't stare," Sìneag said gently. Her tone sounded eerily familiar. It was exactly the voice Helena would have used when correcting their behavior at public gatherings or around guests. It astonished and worried her how quickly she was attempting to fill her sister's place.

"It's just that he looks so sad," Tammara whispered, "and I don't know what to do."

Sìneag looked at her sister both in fondness and sorrow. Part of her wished Tammara's childhood hadn't ended so soon and, yet, she was proud of how well Tammara was growing into it.

"Talk to him," Sìneag nudged her. "I'm sure he'd welcome it. You're about the same age as him."

Tammara shuffled over to the boy and began talking to him, managing to make small talk about her favorite toys and stories and asking him the same.

"Your sister's got spirit," Mairead smiled.

"She does," Sìneag agreed. Digging through her bag, she unfolded the map she'd brought with her and laid it out on the ground. "What route were you thinking of taking through Mirkwood?"

Mairead glanced at the map and sighed. "To be honest… I have no idea. It was the only place I could think of running but I know little about it. If you've got suggestions, I'd love to hear them."

Sìneag studied the map and thought this over. What had Helena always said about Mirkwood? "Tread carefully and stray not from the path."

"We should follow the road to the north, along the river," Sìneag said, pointing out the route on the map. "And…"

And what then? Hope to run into the elves that lived there and expect them to aid them? They had not reacted to the devastation that had so far occurred and there was little reason for them to do so. There was nothing more to do than hope that something better awaited the four of them in the forest and wait to see if anyone else had survived from Dale.

Mairead nodded, as if she understood. "Right," she said, packing up her bag. "We should leave now, make as much headway as we can while the sun is up. Who knows what the woods will be like come nightfall."

Sìneag agreed. There were worse things than dragons out there.

* * *

**Bit grim for Christmas, isn't it? Alas! Sorry for the delay in updating; I've been meaning to get this out but have been swamped. Here's a bit for now and Happy Holidays/Merry Christmas!**


	5. Chapter 5

Mirkwood was a strange place. It wasn't exactly dangerous, but it had changed somewhat in the past years, becoming more mysterious and dark as the vegetation grew thicker and the trees grew taller. There was a slight sense of magic, of something otherworldly, that was different from the outer woods surrounding the lake. Part of it was due to the elves, Sìneag thought, but there was also an element of something more.

"Are we there yet?" Grier cried morosely after only twenty minutes in the forest. Sìneag herself was tired but she was used to traveling with Helena and Damhán on hunts and not complaining about fatigue. Sìneag wondered briefly what had become of Damhán. Surely he was dead, like the rest of the village's inhabitants.

"Perhaps we should stop," Mairead gasped. She was not used to traveling such a distance either and, though Tammara had not said a word, Sìneag could see exhaustion in her wide eyes.

"That seems like a good idea. We'll take a break, have a snack, and get our energy back."

"How far do you think we are from the elves?" Mairead asked.

Sìneag dug out the map from her bag and studied it carefully. They were farther than she had hoped. "A day, likely more. We only have to follow the river upstream and the road hugs it rather closely, so it won't be hard to navigate. However, I have no idea what to expect when we get there. They did not help when the dwarves' kingdom fell to the dragon. And I doubt they will help us at all."

"It is our only hope though," Mairead said softly.

Sìneag bit her lip. How could she possibly know what to do? They were between a rock and a hard place. They could chose to make due with roughing it alongside the river or they could hope to find some sympathy from the elves known for their coldness towards those unlike them. Sìneag did not know as much about living off the land as the rest of her siblings had; she did not want to worry every day about whether or not she and the others would survive through sundown. She would rather risk it with the elves and at least be on the move with provisions than staying put and trying to make due with what was around them.

"We'll go to the elves. It can't hurt."

Mairead nodded and separated out four servings of food. "What do you think they will do for us, if they choose to help?"

Sìneag shrugged. "I have little knowledge of the elves. Perhaps they will give us food, or if they are feeling extremely grateful, lodging. I do not anticipate anything more than that."

"Then… what will we do after?" Mairead asked, her eyes fraught with worry.

Sìneag swallowed slowly. "We don't have to worry about that quite yet. But if we do… well, there are other villages to go to. Places beyond Mirkwood. Or perhaps…" This was hopeful beyond reason, but she had to say it for Mairead's sake, "perhaps some of our villagers survived or escaped as well."

"Perhaps," Mairead said, looking at her son. He had fallen asleep in a pile of pine needles. Sìneag wondered how they would ever make it on their scare provisions with two little ones who couldn't travel far in a day's time. She was beginning to regret having ever made this decision.

As the sun rose overhead, Sìneag grew warm and sleepy. She began to doze in a patch of sunlight and only awoke with the rustle of tree branches and the murmur of voices nearby.

Sìneag bolted upright, looking around the forest carefully. The voices were closer to the river, some distance away, but not far at all. Slowly, she crept towards them, being careful not to snap any branches and give herself away.

The figures were human, young, in their late teens or early twenties, with curly, fiery red hair. They appeared to be a pair of twins, a male and a female. At first, Sìneag couldn't recognize them from the soot that covered their faces but after a moment or two she recognized them.

"Tófi? Frida?" she said softly.

They spun around, trying to place where the voice was coming from. Sìneag stepped out of the shrub where she had been hiding. They looked down, took a moment to register what they were seeing, and smiled brightly.

"Sìneag!" Frida cried. "You survived! We can't say how glad we are to see you!"

The twins had innkeepers and tavern owners, living on the edge of town near the main road. They'd also been known for the musical duo they formed to entertain their lodgers. Frida played the lute and sang while Tófi was a fiddling genius.

"We were afraid we'd found the only ones left already," Tófi explained, surprise and joy streaked across his face.

"There are more of you?" Sìneag said breathlessly.

"A few dozen. No more, I'm afraid. It's fortunate there are so many," Tófi said. "But now with your family…"

Sìneag shook her head. "My sister Tammara and I are the only ones who made it. However, we have the lord's wife and son with us."

Frida looked stunned. She swallowed carefully. "I am so sorry about your parents and sisters, Sìneag. We assumed they would be with you. My deepest condolences."

"Thank you," Sìneag said softly, not quelling the tears that insisted on forming in her eyes. "Who else survived?"

"Well, it's a good bit of luck with the lord's wife and son. Unfortunately the lord did not make it himself," Tófi explained. "Those on the outer edge of town – like ourselves – were able to escape before the flames spread. And somehow…" Tófi's face darkened. "I don't know how the damnable man survived. He must have sold his soul or something of that nature. To think when so many others are gone and he who brought this very blight upon us…"

"Who is it?" Sìneag asked. Tófi said nothing. "Who?" Sìneag demanded.

"Damhán," Frida said. "Damhán's survived. And he's proclaimed himself leader in the lord's absence."


	6. Chapter 6

Sìneag roused the others and explained what had occurred. A new light of hope had appeared in Mairead's eyes as she saw Frida and Tófi and she hugged them tightly.

"We were out foraging when Sìneag found us," Tófi explained. "Damhán has insisted we store up what we can while the weather allows. He is concerned that the season will turn fowl and we'll be without any supplies."

"That's the wisest thing he's thought of all year," Sìneag growled. "What does he plan to do next? Surely he's put aside all ideas of fighting."

"He has, for now. He still lusts for revenge but he knows he can't take on a dragon with so few in number and so few supporters," Frida agreed. "He's asked that someone travel to the elves and ask them for aid but he's had no volunteers. No one wants to risk it or leave so soon after their homes are destroyed."

"We were heading there ourselves when we found you," Mairead said. "It was Sìneag's idea. It seemed our best option at the time."

"We still need their help, if possible," Frida said. "We can rebuild, eventually, but the weather will grow cold soon and we won't survive the winter without extra hands. We have lumber, we have a carpenter. But we do not have enough laborers."

"I could go on ahead," Sìneag found herself saying. "I could go on to the elves, ask them to help us, while the rest of you return to what's left of our village and begin to rebuild."

"No!" Tammara cried. "I won't leave you!" She flung herself around Sìneag's waist and clung on tightly. In that moment, Sìneag hated herself more than in any other. Tammara was the only family she had left and it seemed her best option was to leave her behind in order to save her.

"You cannot travel alone," Mairead insisted. "Surely one of us must go with you."

"Tammara is too young to travel so far and Grier needs you," Sìneag argued. "Besides, you must keep Damhán from ruining whatever future Dale has got now. He's gone mad and I wouldn't trust him leading anything. And I am sure Tófi and Frida are needed."

"We are," Frida said regretfully. "We're the best foragers at the moment. They can't do without us. But you're just as needed there, Sìneag. No matter who goes, someone will be missed."

As loath as Sìneag was to go alone, she knew she must. "I'm the only one that can be truly spared. It will just be a day or two at the most; I'll be back before you know it."

Frida and Tófi looked at each other and nodded. "Okay," Friday said. "Be swift." She handed Sìneag a small pouch. "There's food in that; enough to get you to the elves and back. Be careful, Sìneag."

"I will. Thank you." Sìneag gave Tammara a tight hug. "I'll be right back; I promise."

Her eyes filled with tears. "But people are always leaving me. Helena. Mum and Dad. Everyone just leaves."

"But that's not what I'm going to do. I'm coming back." She kissed her forehead and stepped towards Mairead. "Please watch over her. I'll be back as soon as possible."

Mairead nodded, squeezing her shoulder. "I will. Be safe."

Sìneag nodded and gave her sister a long look. " 'Til next we meet," she said and walked off into the forest.


	7. Chapter 7

Being alone in the woods was far different than being with companions. Every tree branch Sìneag broke with her still-awkward steps, every birdcall, every motion around her carried with it a different feel and weight in her mind. Sìneag was hyperaware of her weakness in the forest as she never had been before. Helena had always kindly pointed them out and helped her along the way, or Damhán had rudely made a spectacle of them. Now, without anyone to indicate them to her but the memories of their pointers echoing through her mind, she seemed to notice every error she made in a way she never had before. With no one else with her, the natural silence of the forest was more noticeable and Sìneag could tell how foreign her own presence was.

It was the first time she'd been alone since she'd fled the lake after Helena was swept away in the claws of the dragon and Sìneag felt her pulse race at this realization. Why did she think she could do this? She couldn't face the elves – or anyone – alone. What would she possibly say that would convince the elves that they should help a group of humans who were not entirely blameless in their situation? What words could possibly explain the nightmare she had just gone through and would express how sorely in need of help her people were? Who was she to carry on this quest when she had no inner strength? She was much weaker than Helena had ever been and she had to admit to herself she could not fill her sister's shoes.

She stopped suddenly, kicking up a cloud of leaves and dirt around her. It was time to turn back, to go back to what remained of her home and accept defeat. She was not capable of this. It was that simple.

_Yes, Sìneag_, a voice said, deep in her thoughts. _Yes you are_.

Sìneag felt like crying. The voice was Helena's, the same comforting, convincing tone she had used when she had made a mistake hunting or identifying a plant or any of the other countless mistakes she seemed to make throughout the day. Helena had always believed in her when no one else had. And now it was time for Sìneag to continue that for herself. Helena, had she lived, would not have always been there for her and Sìneag would have had to learn to hold her own anyway. So why not now?

She continued on, walking as quickly and quietly as possible. She managed to reach the beginnings of elf territory by late afternoon; she could feel a change in the air, an ethereal, enchanting quality that seemed to hang about like a mist. The road split, one path heading deeper into the forest, the other continuing to wind along the river towards the elves' abodes. Sìneag kept towards the river, wondering how long she could keep herself unknown from the ever-observant elves.

The answer was only a mere matter of seconds. Two tall, lithe beings with long blond hair and cool grey eyes emerged from a thicket near the river and stepped into the road, blocking Sìneag's path.

"What brings you here, human girl?" one of them asked, a male with bow slung over one shoulder. Sìneag felt strangely at ease; the bow reminded her of Helena and for some reason she felt that if this archer shared something in common with her sister, he could not be that frightening.

"I've come to ask for help from Lord Thranduil," Sìneag explained, naming the elves' king. "My village of Dale has been destroyed by the terrible worm, Smaug, and we ask your king's aid to help rebuild – just simple shelters – before the winter sets in."

"We do not help humans," the other elf, also male, said coldly. "Come, Legolas." He turned and walked away. The archer, however, did not follow and continued to study

Sìneag, almost sadly.

"What do you ask of my people?" the elf inquired.

"Simply your labor. We have not enough hands to erect structures in the time given to us," Sìneag said. "I am certain that whatever work your people do will be rewarded. We do not ask for much, merely your skill and your time."

The elf named Legolas nodded. "I will talk with Thranduil. Wait here." He walked away, leaving Sìneag standing beside the river, feeling confused. What now? She was still a great distance from where the elves' home was marked on the map and, while the elves were known for their swiftness, she doubted that Legolas would return any time that day. Preparing to spend the night where she was, she made camp and ate dinner, watching the river flow past and listening to the birdsong overhead.

She drifted off to sleep and was surprised when the morning's light flared its way through her eyelids, awaking her. Feeling a bit stiff from sitting propped up against a tree, she stretched slowly and began making breakfast. Would Legolas come back now? Or would he not return, afraid to tell her that the only hope Dale had was gone?

Her question was answered soon after she'd broken her fast. Legolas appeared elegantly from between the trees like a deer walking into a clearing. He smiled at her and dropped down lightly onto a fallen tree across from her camp.

"I spoke with Thranduil," he said, "and though it took much convincing on my part, he has agreed to send four of our most skilled carpenters to help your village rebuild."

"Thank you," Sìneag said gratefully. "I don't know how you managed it, but thank you. I owe you a debt."

"You owe Thranduil a debt, not I," Legolas smiled. "One day the time will come to repay that debt, I do not doubt, but worry not about it now. Your village shall be saved."

"Thank you," Sìneag said, tears filling her eyes. "Thank you, Legolas."

"You are welcome, Sìneag of Dale. Blessings on your days ahead."

He disappeared back into the forest and Sìneag shook her head, smiling and marveling that he had gleaned her name. An enigmatic lot, the elves. They always liked to leave with an aura of mystery.

She packed her things and prepared to return home – well, the makings of her new one, at least. A spring entered her steps as Sìneag thought of being reunited with Tammara and suddenly the long trek back didn't seem so frightful. Return journeys were always easier than parting ones, right?


	8. Chapter 8

Sìneag made good time, making her camp for the night only a few miles from the place she had encountered Frida and Tófi. She awoke early the next morning, eager to get find the settlements of the new town.

Unfortunately, things did not go entirely as she had planned.

As she reached the shores of the lake, pausing to eat lunch before taking the last leg of her trip, she heard a familiar sound of leathery wings. She glanced overhead, the sky growing dark as a silhouette she hoped she would never see again blotted out the sun. The dragon had returned.

Sìneag screamed and attempted to run away, knowing it was futile. Giving a thunderous roar, the dragon swept down, picking up Sìneag just as he has snatched up her sister. She shut her eyes, unable to deal with the speed and the vertigo without feeling extraordinarily nauseous. The feeling of movement stopped suddenly and she hit the ground as the dragon dropped her in its den.

Huddled on the ground, afraid to move, Sìneag trembled and curled into a ball. She waited, believing that she was only moments away from her death. She waited and waited, her breath coming in tight gasps, but still nothing occurred. Carefully, slowly, she raised her head.

Smaug sat across from her, perched atop a pile of gold in his den.

"You look familiar," he rumbled. "I believe I have encountered your family before."

Tears sprang to Sìneag's eyes but she resolved herself to stand and face him. "You have," she whispered.

"A sister, was it? She looked like you. What did she call herself again? Halfling, I believe it was." The dragon clambered down from his perch and began to circle around her. Sìneag's legs trembled so violently she feared she would fall over. "But you are even smaller than she."

"Yes," she spluttered.

"You are the first of your people I've seen since I destroyed your village. I didn't that there were any survivors."

Sìneag decided against saying anything. Dragons were sneaky devils and their wit was not to be denied. If she lied, the worm would likely be able to tell. If she confessed that people from her village survived, he would likely hunt them down. But if he had found her… well, he would likely assume there were others. This was it. Sìneag was doomed and so were the remaining villagers.

Smaug cocked his head, looking at her curiously. "Have you nothing more to say? I took your sister's life. I destroyed your home. Truly you must have something to say to me."

Sìneag forced herself to look up into his immense, luminous eyes. "There is nothing to say. Nothing that can save my life. Nothing that can change what happened. There is nothing."

"Wise beyond your years," Smaug said, the flicker of something like a smile brimming along the edges of his mouth. "Another thing you have in common with your sister. She was remarkable – for a human. No doubt she is sorely missed."

He was doing this on purpose, mentioning Helena. He was trying to get her to break down, to take advantage of her sensitivity and loss. She firmed her stance and gritted her jaw and, though she stayed silent, she forced herself to try and appear resolute.

"Your sister asked me to give you all a quick and painless death," the dragon continued. "I'm afraid that this is quite painful for you. Dragons are not entirely known for keeping their promises, I suppose."

"Why?" Sìneag heard herself saying, to her surprise as much as Smaug's.

"What?"

"Why don't dragons keep their promises?"

"Why should we?" Smaug chuckled. "We have few enemies. We are beholden to no one. If anyone has an issue with us –"

"You eat them," Sìneag said. "Painfully simple."

"Yes," Smaug replied. "Yes, it is." He stared at her. "Well, this is a great disappointment. You are not frightened at all."

"Oh yes I am," Sìneag cried. "I am struck with fear. It just doesn't matter anymore, that's all."

"And why not?"

"Because you're going to kill me. And then I will have no more fear."

Smaug gave a rumbling laugh. "What makes you think I'm going to kill you?"

"I… I just kind of assumed…"

Smaug laughed again. "You are so small, the effort of catching you does not equal the energy you would supply. I have feasted and for now I am satiated, perhaps for many, many years. No, I did not catch you to kill you, but to provide you with two things: a regret and an agreement.

"I have felt a great deal of… what I can only describe as guilt for killing your sister. I have lived a great many years and few have treated me with the courtesy and honor that she did. I truly did not feel a great deal of joy in killing her. But it is what I had to do."

Sìneag felt a moment of rage at his strange apology. She longed to argue with him, to disagree with him having to kill as he did, for razing their village, for being such a brute force against a population that could never effectively fight back. But it would be a waste of energy. If there was anything a dragon was, it was steadfast in their ways. And after all, dragons were animals. They had to eat. Perhaps they were not the most respectable of consumers, but they had to live to. At least, this is what Helena would have believed. And Sìneag longed to believe it too.

"I… I understand," she gulped. "I understand."

"Thank you," Smaug replied. "And next – an agreement. I am fatigued, little one, and I am prepared to sleep for a great many centuries. I have gained what I came for – the sweet luster of gold. And now that it is mine, I can rest easy. With that, I make you an accord – I will leave your people be for the next one hundred years as long as you make no moves to disturb my slumber. It is that simple. Your vengance, your anger, your brutality and your resolution will have to wait. Can you agree to that?"

Sìneag could not help but give a sigh of relief. "It is all I could ever ask for. Yes, I – we – can agree to that."

Smaug bowed his head and gave a sort of pleased growl. "I thank you, Halfing's kin. You and she have given me hope."

Tears ran down her cheeks as she said, "Strangely enough, great one, so have you."

He bowed to her. "We will not meet again, little one. As meaningless as it may be, know you have my respect."

"It is not meaningless," Sìneag smiled. "Know that you have my forgiveness and my mercy. If I have children, I will teach them not to hate your kind."

"You are just like your sister," Smaug said, shaking his head. He turned away and climbed back atop his pile of treasure. "Fair you well, little one."

"Fair you well," Sìneag said, bowing. She turned and left, walking slowly out of the den, hardly believing that she was leaving alive. Once she had reached some distance, she broke out into a run, dashing back down towards the lake and rushing with relief and glee back home.


End file.
